


Best Foot Forward

by justfandomthings



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Protective Steve McGarrett, Worried Steve McGarrett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justfandomthings/pseuds/justfandomthings
Summary: After a case goes wrong, Danny finds himself injured and unable to sleep. If he's not lost in the pain, he's lost in his thoughts. But, at least he has an overprotective, concerned Neanderthal as a partner to bring him back.





	Best Foot Forward

“Danny?” Steve calls as his partner limps away from him. The concern is easy to hear in his voice. “You okay?”

Danny raises a hand in the air, waving the question off, but he doesn't turn around, nor does he look back. “Fine,” he responds. He climbs into his car, turns the engine on, and is gone only a moment later, leaving his partner and the rest of his team at the crime scene as he drives away from them (mainly Steve) and what they (Steve) represent. 

That's the comfort that only a loved one can provide. 

It's fair to say that Danny sees the concern (and, by extension, the comfort that Steve would try to offer upon realizing how much he's hurting) as unfair given the few but precious lives that have been lost today who themselves will never experience the concern and care of another again; meaning, why is it fair for him to experience those beauties when three innocents have lost their lives and all that comes in the gift of life?

It's that upset thought that keeps Danny from turning the car around and running back to his partner. 

It takes all of Steve's self control to not take Kono's car and take off after his partner. If Danny's silence hadn't been reason enough to know that his partner was hurting, the way Danny had held himself as he walked away- as if in pain both physically and mentally- was infallible proof that Danny was upset and hurt.  

And knowing that just makes Steve want to leave the crime scene and go after his partner so he can be there for him. 

But he can't.  

It takes Steve a solid minute to pull himself out of his thoughts and look away from where Danny had stood only a few minutes before so he can walk away and close the case. Maybe Danny's going back to the Palace to write his portion of the paperwork for the case that had ended prematurely, wrongly.

But if Steve knows better, and he  _does_ know better, Danny is simply going to his apartment where it is empty, where no one will be there to bear witness to his tears. He'll sit on his sofa with only partial regard for his injured leg (Steve concernedly took note of the apparent limp his partner had as he walked away) and then he'll stare off at no particular spot on the wall until he is lost in his thoughts and all he knows is the ringing of his ears and the heaving of his chest and the feel of warm tears down his cheeks.

It hurts Steve just to think about, that even after all these years of working together and being  _ohana,_ Danny's natural default when upset is to break away, create distance, and suffer his pain alone.

It's not entirely fair of him to wish Danny would go to him, instinctively, when upset like this, for Steve also does the same exact thing when he is hurting, but he  _does_ wish Danny would come to him so he wouldn't be alone and he could comfort him. If he were to tell Danny all of this, he'd be called a hypocrite. But he's not, not really, because keeping his feelings to himself is simply all he knows. He's the one from a broken household, who was trained as a SEAL and, subsequently, learned to always control-  _hide_ \- his emotions.

Danny is the one who grew up with Sunday dinners and a sports game always playing. He is the one who is supposed to lean on others for support because such is his default, what he is used to. Sometimes, Steve can even see a flash of that yearning in Danny's eyes before it is stuffed down behind a mask of calm as Danny walks away.

And he knows, and it takes much effort and grief on his part to admit to himself, that it was life herself that broke Danny down and made him realize that it was better to rely on himself and keep his emotions private than risk letting someone in.

It's dark outside when Steve knocks on the door to Danny's apartment. His Camaro is here so he knows Danny is, but not even five minutes of knocking brings his partner to the door.

But for all his desire to want to see his partner and offer comfort, Steve knows Danny is silently asking for distance through way of not going to the door. He'll honor his request, always, but he can't help but call softly, “I'm here if you need me, Danno. You can let yourself into my place, time doesn't matter, you're welcome to come.”

He waits, hesitates, more like, and is rewarded a few moments later when there's a small thump of acknowledgement from the other side of the door. “You're not alone,” he whispers.  _You have me._

He only wishes Danny could let himself believe that.

That night passes slowly and he gets, much to his reluctance to admit, much less sleep than he would prefer. One moment he's on his back, the next on his side, the other on his stomach. Not even the Navy's best techniques to falling asleep quickly can help him. When he closes his eyes, the faces of the victims they lost stare back at him. If not them, then it's the visual of the lone, quiet form of Danny's defeated self as he limps away from Steve, from the companionship and comfort he wants to provide.

And he can't sleep.

It's five in the morning when he finally rouses from a restful sleep and goes for his morning swim. He's showered, changed, and ready to go into work at six. So he does.

The Palace is dark when he enters, the doors to each office closed, but not even that nor the closed blinds to Danny's office can stop him from thinking (realizing somehow) that Danny is in his office. He feels slightly foolish as he steps forward, even more so when he knocks, but a moment later there's a heavy sigh and then a weary, “Come in.”

Steve opens the door slowly, only halfway, and steps into the doorway. Danny is sitting at his desk surrounded by his laptop and a stack of papers. “You're here early,” he says carefully.

“Could say the same for you.”

Steve watches his partner carefully. Danny's not making eye contact with him, keeping his head down as his pencil moves aimlessly over a piece of paper. He looks exhausted. “Rough night?”

“Bout the same as you,” Danny says neutrally.

Somehow, in looking at the stress lines and the dark circles under Danny's eyes, Steve doubts it. He'd say he got several more hours of sleep than Danny; his partner doesn't look like he slept at all last night.

“Say something, Danno,” he finally says when Danny offers nothing further to him. His partner is always talking, whether by making a joke, teasing Steve, complaining about something...he’s always talking. To have him fail to do  _something_ now is frankly concerning to Steve.

“What do you want me to say?” Danny snaps, looking up at him for the first time. Unlike the other times he has spoken, there is now, finally, some detectable emotion in his voice. “That the case sucked? You're well aware of that so why bother saying it? That three innocent people, including a single dad and his baby girl were killed in cold blood because of us? You already know that too, just like how you know I’m taking this case too personally by relating myself to the single father and his little girl-” Danny cuts himself off, a terrible, pained sob escaping him before it is quickly silenced. He brings a shaking hand to his mouth, as if forcing himself to remain silent.

Steve moves closer, perching on the edge of Danny's desk after he moves aside some paperwork. Danny avoids his eyes, staring stubbornly at a point on the wall. He's breathing quickly, his eyes moist with tears, but they don't fall and the office is quiet other than the sounds of Steve's thoughts.

They all have to do with his partner and how he can offer the comfort to his friend that he so desperately wants to without being pushed away.

“Feeling the effects of the case isn't a bad thing,” he finally says quietly. He sees Danny stiffen at his words but he doesn't stop. “I know what we've been taught, that we can't save them all, and while that's true, that doesn't mean we’re not allowed to hurt when a case goes wrong like this one did. And taking this one personally...I get it, Danno, Danny,” he quickly corrects when he sees Danny's flinch, “because I think of Grace as part of my ohana, just like I do with you, and I can't imagine what it would be like to lose either one of you. I  _don't_ want to imagine that.”

Danny lifts his head, looking at him. His eyes are shining with unvoiced but not unclear emotions. Steve leans forward, this time, allowing his hand to touch Danny's shoulder lightly. “You don't have to be alone,” he says quietly. He gives Danny’s shoulder a squeeze and then stands, heading for the door. He pauses in the doorway, tapping the door once in parting and then he leaves his partner to his thoughts.

Kono and Chin file in at some point around seven and Steve converses with them for a little while before they all go to their desks and work on their paperwork. With extra time on his hands once he finishes the paperwork for the past case, Steve ends up catching on the reports he has fallen behind on.

Noon comes and goes and it's not until two that he is roused out of his office by the pleasant scent of pizza wafting through the air. But as he makes his way to the common area where Kono and Chin are engaging in quiet conversation while setting up a table to eat at, he can't help but find his gaze going towards the door of his partner's office, a door that remains stubbornly closed.

Kono exchanges a worried glance with him in the direction of Danny's office. “Boss, he okay?” she asks softly.

Steve nods even though he knows the current answer to that question is  _no._  “He will be,” he says. “This one's just taking a little longer to bounce back from.”

“Do you think he has a lunch?”

“Maybe a salad, since Grace seems to be giving him grief about not eating healthy enough.” Steve shakes his head. “I'm not sure.”

Sighing, she opens two of the boxes of pizza, then grabs two plates. She stacks slices of pineapple pizza on one, then regular cheese on the other. “Hold these,” she commands, handing the plates to Steve as she disappears into her office. When she comes back, she has two water bottles in her hands, which she then balances carefully on one end of either plate. “Go.”

Steve gives her a blank look. “Sorry?”

She rolls her eyes. “Boss, he's hurting, he's trying to pull away from us. We all know how much he means to you, even  _he_ knows it to some degree, even if he won't admit it. But right now he's hurt, upset, and is trying to convince himself that distancing himself from us will somehow protect him in the long run. So, prove to him he's wrong, that he's ohana and we’re here for him no matter what.”

Steve can't help but smile softly. “I will, thanks,  _mom_ ,” he teases lightly.

She rolls her eyes again, nudging his arm none too gently to steer him in the right direction. Chin, ever the silent observer but willing participant, opens the door for him as Steve enters the office.

He only takes a step in before he pauses, halted by the sight of his partner slumped over at his desk. Despite knowing it's most likely due to Danny being asleep and not dead, Steve can't help but quickly set the plates down so he can rush over and check on his partner.

A simple brush of his fingers to Danny's neck confirms what he already suspected, Danny is fast asleep. “Aw, Danno,” he sighs, touching Danny's shoulder lightly. “Wake up, buddy.”

Danny groans at his touch, blinking his eyes open blearily a few moments later. “Whaddya want?” he mumbles.

“Nothing, just want you to work with me so I can help you to the sofa.”

Danny frowns up at him. “Steve?”

Steve gives him a small smile. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah.” Danny yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Time is it?”

“Quarter past two,” Steve informs him.

Danny blinks. “Coulda sworn it was two only a minute ago.”

“You just fell asleep, I'm sorry.” Steve frowns. “I wasn't meaning to wake you up, I only wanted to help you to the sofa.”

Danny waves his apology off. “‘S fine, I have paperwork to finish still.”

“And?”

“And what?” Danny frowns.

“And, you gonna tell me how much sleep you got last night?”

“Enough,” Danny replies defensively.

“Enough,” Steve echoes. “So, enough that you're tired enough to fall asleep slumped over your laptop?”

Danny stubbornly does not grace him with a response to that. “Whaddya want, Steve?”

_For you to let me be here for you._

“For you to come join us for pizza. Kono even got plain cheese just for you.”

Danny sighs, though he doesn't sound quite so tired anymore. “Fine, for the sake of my stomach,” he grumbles.

Steve manages a small smile as he gestures to the plates set across from them on the desk. “In here or out there?”

“Out there,” Danny says. “Gotta thank Kono for actually listening and giving a man what he wants to eat, unlike  _someone else I know._ ” 

“Hey, now, be careful. _Someone_ might get the impression you were trying to take a jab at the strength of their friendship,” Steve warns, smirking. “I mean, a friend who doesn't listen? Doesn't sound like that good a friend to me.”

“For some odd reason, I completely agree,” Danny snarks, pushing back his chair and standing carefully. Steve catches a look of pain flash across his face when he puts pressure on his leg and frowns at him.

“All good?”

Danny gives Steve an odd, yet somehow fond, look. “A little sore,” he says truthfully. “It's fine.”

“Want me to take a look?”

“Uh, yeah, no, I'd rather avoid being poked and prodded if that's alright with you. It's just a dull ache, I'm fine.”

Yet, he takes each step carefully, one hand braced against the edge of the desk as if he's concerned his leg will give out from under him if he is to let go.

“You sure?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Yeah, geez, Steve, I'm sure. Stop being such a mom.”

“Can't a guy be worried about his partner in peace?” Steve grumbles. “Why do you have to make a thing outta this?”

“A  _thing?”_ Danny echoes. “You’re the one thinking a simple muscle cramp is a cause for alarm.”

“Muscle cramp?”

Danny shrugs. “That's what it feels like. Musta pulled something yesterday,” he sighs, his better mood now vanishing at the reminder of how their case ended only the day before.

Steve rubs his shoulder absently. “You don't have to eat with us, you know,” he says. “Not if you don't want to.”

“I don't want to disappoint Kono after she went through the trouble of getting me a regular pizza from who knows where.” Danny sighs.

“But?” Steve edges.

For a moment, he almost thinks Danny will give him a straight answer. But Danny just shrugs, stiffening his stance as he limps his way to the door.

“Uh, Danny?”

“Steven.”

“Your hair is, uh, kinda…” Steve trails off, trying not to smile.

“Fuck off, McGarrett, my hair looks great, even soft and fluffy like this,” Danny shoots back.  

This time, Steve cannot contain his smile. “‘Soft and fluffy?’”

“Grace told me that's what my hair looks like in the morning, okay!” Danny waves his hands in the air. “Geez, you goof, my hair can't possibly look that weird!”

Kono's laughter when she sees Danny is proof enough that, yes, his hair  _can_ look that weird.

Danny waves his water bottle at her. “I won't hesitate to pour this on your head,” he warns.

Steve leans against the wall and watches his team with a small smile on his face as Kono laughs in Danny's face and dares him to. It's good to see Danny smiling again. He knows this is nowhere near the end of Danny’s grieving and that in some small amount of time he'll be distancing himself again but, for now, Danny is allowing them to see him.

And that's a start. 

_The ceiling in this room could not be more boring,_ Danny thinks, heavily annoyed, as he observes the ceiling above him with weary eyes. It's been five hours since he laid down to go to bed. It's been approximately twenty-seven hours since he last slept. If you don’t count the fifteen minutes he got into his office, which he doesn't. So, when he  _did_ sleep last, he only managed an hour and a half of sleep,  _total._

He is well aware that it is more than his insomnia that is keeping him awake, but he isn't really in the mood to dig out his sleeping pills. Or his melatonin pills. Doing so feels like an admission of defeat.

He'd rather forgo his surely nightmare-plagued sleep anyway, than admit he's failed to complete the simple act of  _sleeping_ without assistance.  

Sighing deeply, Danny starts to roll onto his side. Maybe he'll have more luck falling asleep there than on his-  _fuck_. Hissing in pain, Danny bites down  _hard_ on his inner lip as he struggles to not cry out in pain. Fuck, his leg is all kinds of  _agony._

Breathing slowly, Danny bites his lip again and manages to sit up. He slumps against the backboard and reaches for his leg, pressing his fingers into his thigh tightly. He messed his hamstring up  _bad._

The pain is easily as bad as it had been when he tore his ACL any of the many times it has happened. It's  _excruciating_ and the idea of moving, let alone resigning himself to an early morning due to another sleepless night just sounds like hell.

_“You're not alone, Danno,”_ he hears Steve's voice echo in his brain.  _“You've got me.”_

Danny nearly groans. Of course that's where his mind goes when he's in need of comfort; his partner. Can't a guy go two hours without thinking of his  _platonic, work_ partner?

Apparently not.

Well, in pain or not, Danny can't lie here all day. It may only be a little after five and, yes, he went to bed past midnight, but he's not about to stay in bed when he already knows he won't be able to fall asleep. There's no point.

Heavily resigned to the agonizing pain of standing up to get to the bathroom, Danny contemplates the cane for all of a second before pride makes the decision. He limps to the bathroom, slowly, carefully, and all but wheezes in pain as he finally makes it to the doorway.

_Fuck._

It's going to be a long day.

Three Advil later and Danny limps into the Palace with his mind already firmly made up: the pain in his leg isn't going to slow him down. But, as his luck tends to go, the call for a case comes a mere  _three fucking minutes_ after the others file into the office for the day. 

Steve eyes him carefully as they walk to the Camaro together. “Your leg still bothering you?”

“Injuries do tend to last over a twenty-four your time span, Steven,” Danny reminds. “Not all of us are trained to block out pain like you are.”

“I feel pain,” Steve argues.

Danny raises an eyebrow as he gingerly lowers himself into the passenger seat of the car. “Uh huh.”

“I do!”

“Says the man who walks off a fucking concussion and two cracked ribs like it was a scraped knee,” Danny retorts. For some reason, maybe lack of sleep and too much coffee, he's really not in the mood to hear stories of Steve's apparent invincibility. Not today.

“It hurt me when you were poisoned by the Sarin,” Steve says neutrally, his expression carefully blank as he starts the car.

Danny swallows hard. “Oh.”

“And when Grace was kidnapped,” Steve continues, “And when Matt escaped and you pulled away from me to deal with your pain alone, and when you were shot in the vest but I thought you had been killed...” He trails off. “I'm trained to not let my own pain consume me. It's hard to find training that works when it comes to the pain of someone I love. I was never very good at keeping my emotions at bay when someone on my team was hurt.”

Danny clears his throat. “I hate to see you in pain too,” he says gruffly, feeling like a bit of an ass now for the way he responded earlier.

Steve gives him a warm smile.

The rest of the car ride passes in comfortable silence.

What happens a little later does not; in fact, it may very well be some of the worst pain Danny has ever lived through. There's absolutely  _nothing_ comfortable about it at all, except for  _maybe_ the way Steve is holding his hand tightly and isn't letting him go.

In fact, it may be the  _only_ thing tethering Danny to the present instead of to the pain that is consuming his body in fire-hot flames. 

But that comes with time because,  _of course,_ something goes wrong during their case. (When does it not?)

“Whaddya we got?” Steve asks, walking at a slower but determined pace so Danny can keep up as they make their way over to the yellow tape together.

The HPD officer lifts the tape for them and then walks them over to the remains of what once was probably a very lovely home. “Place was torched, we found two bodies inside and the HFD says there's signs of arson.”

“The same M.O?” Danny questions.

The officer nods gravely.

Steve turns to face him. “There's a serial arsonist I don't know about?”

Danny nods. “When you were away for your last SuperSeal training,” he explains, “We had an onslaught of fires of both upper and middle class homes alike. This is the first time we've ever had victims from the fire, though.”

“Why does the HFD think they're related and all torched by the same person?” Steve frowns.

“We'll show you, Commander,” the officer says, walking away with the expectation that they will follow.

Danny begins after her but Steve holds out his arm, stopping him. “What?”

Steve looks as if he's about to say something but then closes his mouth, shaking his head. “Let's go,” he says in a voice that is all but a sigh.

Danny eyes him suspiciously. “I'm capable of walking a crime scene, Steven. Remember, minor injury.”

“That's causing you a lot of pain,” Steve points out.

“I'm not weak.”

Steve deflates at Danny's hard tone. “I know that,” he reassures, “but you  _do_ have an injury that is causing you discomfort, no matter how small you claim the injury is.”

“What, you can't take me at my word all of a sudden?” Danny questions, now angry. “I told you it was just a muscle injury, so I really don't see why you're making such a big deal of it! I'm  _fine!_ ”

“Sirs!” the officer interrupts loudly. They turn to look at her, both of them flushing at the realization of yet another public disagreement, and she gestures towards the back room. “You coming?”

“He is,” Danny says before Steve can even open his mouth. He shoots a glare at his partner. “I'm going to go…” He trails off when he sees the pain in Steve's eyes, visible to him even though Steve is clearly trying to maintain a blank front.

_“It hurt me when you were poisoned by the Sarin.”_

“I'm going to go see if Kono and Chin have anything from potential witnesses,” Danny finishes lamely. He takes a measured step towards the door but pauses at Steve's side to squeeze his shoulder.  _Sorry, you overprotective goof._

Steve gives him a small, somewhat tight, yet somehow thankful smile. Danny returns it and then limps his way to the door. He steps outside and observes the small crowd gathered behind the police tape. Kono is on the east side, Chin on the west, and they seem to be systematically making their way to each other in the middle as they go about questioning everyone.

_In the middle._

Danny frowns, looking closer. They have no description of their arsonist, have no idea what he looks like, but Danny thinks he does, now. There's a man standing slightly behind all the others, a hat pulled low over his eyes to protect his identity even as he observes the crime scene, specifically, the  _burnt house._

_Many arsonists will return to the scene of the crime to observe their handiwork,_ Danny recalls from his academy days.

Could it really be that easy?

Mind made up to at least talk to the guy, Danny climbs over the remains of the door and then heads towards his man.

He's halfway to him when the man seems to realize he's been spotted. Tugging his hat down lower to hide his face, he begins to walk away at a faster but still measured pace.

“Hey,” Danny calls, walking faster. The man does too, of course. “Hey, stop!”

The man makes the mistake of glancing over his shoulder to judge the amount of distance between himself and Danny, and Danny gets an unblocked look at his face. And immediately commits the visual to memory just as the man begins running away.

“Five-O, stop!” he yells, and adrenaline takes over, distracting him from the pain that flares in his leg as he takes off after the man. “Chin!”

Chin turns, sees the man, and immediately begins following him. But the man notices this and shoves a woman in his path. Chin catches her before she can fall but doing so delays him, causing Danny to take the lead in the pursuit. Behind him, he can hear both Chin and Kono chasing after him, but he still yells, “Steve!” as loud as he can, hoping his partner has heard him.

The man dodges in and around people, knocking things and people into the path between Danny and himself, but Danny only goes around, knowing that because he's in the lead, it's his job to continue the pursuit while the others check on those who have fallen due to the man's shoves.

“Danny!” he hears called from behind him.  _Steve._ Well, at least he knows his partner is in pursuit. And given the amount of people who have been all but tackled to the ground by the probable arsonist, it's likely Steve is his only backup. God, Steve better not lose sight of them...

The man rounds a block, Danny hot on his heels, and throws the door open to a privately owned grocery store, disappearing inside. “Five-O, stop!” Danny yells, cutting sharply to the right to avoid the rack of pastries that are knocked down in front of him. He jumps over the various boxes and continues running. The man shoves people down and continues to knock down displays behind him to disrupt Danny's path.

He finally barrels out the back entryway- the loading dock for the cargo trucks dropping off groceries- and continues down that alley as fast as he can. Danny follows, a tight grimace on his face as he tries to block out the downright horrible pain in his leg that is only increasing with each step.

The man reaches the corner of the alley and, if it's even possible, Danny huffs to himself, seems to run faster.  _Come on, Danno! Faster!_ he hears Grace chant in his ear. Even if it's just his internal thoughts, it's still a strong motivator and Danny strengthens his resolve to  _go faster._

And he does. He closes the distance between them, only a few feet between himself and the arsonist and-

The man knocks a trash can directly in his path. With no clear way to dodge it, the only thing Danny can do is jump over it.

It's mid-air that his entire leg  _burns_ with sheer, unbearable  _agony,_  the force of it so strong that Danny instinctively reaches for his leg instead of trying to break his fall. He crashes to the ground but the only thing that registers in his mind is the horrible pain in his leg.

It takes a few seconds before he becomes aware of his surroundings again but, when he does, the footsteps he hears are running away from him, not towards him.

_The arsonist has escaped._

Fuck.

But the fact that Steve isn't behind him means Steve may have tried to cut him off. And, if he did, then there's also a chance he's close to or has already encountered the suspected arsonist.

For the sake of his own mind, Danny really hopes Steve nails the son of a bitch.

It's another few moments before he's able to bring himself to release the deathgrip he has on his leg so he can force himself onto his back and reach for his phone.

When he pulls it out of his pocket, however, he finds the screen has been badly cracked. “Fuck,” he mutters, pressing the home button. The screen stays dark. Swearing again quietly under his breath, he tries to turn the phone on.

No luck.

To recap, he's lying immobile on the ground with no way of contacting Steve or anyone else that could help him. Fuck him. “Steve!” Danny yells.

His voice echoes in the alley but it is otherwise silent afterward. There are no sounds of a worried SuperSeal racing towards him, no call of his name. In fact, there's really not much of anything except for the sharp, stabbing pain coming from his leg.

God, he thinks his leg is going to need to be amputated. This pain doesn't just rival the pain of his torn ACL, it  _beats_ that pain. Danny didn’t think that was possible.

Minutes go by before Danny is able to gather the strength, both mentally and physically, to raise himself into a sitting position. With this accomplished, he then reaches for the trashcan lying on its side beside him so he can use that as a brace.

Sweat is sliding down his temple when he finally manages to stand on his good leg. He waits for a moment, trying to control his breathing, and then cautiously brings his injured leg to the ground. The moment he puts pressure on his leg, his mind goes blank with the thought of pain and he collapses back down to the ground with a cry of pain.

“Steve,” he groans.

It takes him another two minutes to manage to get to a sitting position again. When he finally does, he can barely hold back the tears that are welling in his eyes.

“ _Danny!”_ he hears off in the distance.

Danny lifts his head. “Steve!” he shouts. His heart, already pounding in his chest from adrenaline and exerition, begins to beat wildly at the thought of safety being so close. 

He struggles to his feet and the adrenaline, now pumping again, fuels his slow-paced limp in the direction of his partner’s voice. Putting one foot in front of the other is hard, harder than anything Danny has ever endured before, and just when he thinks the pain can't get any worse, he takes another step and it's even worse all over again. It's a cruel, cruel pattern.

But when he lifts his head, he can see his partner at the far end of the street, quickly getting closer to him. Danny limps faster, Steve's cry of his name serving as his only motivation to keep moving.  _Because Steve is coming, he's safe._ With fifty feet or so between them, Danny simply stops, completely and utterly worn, and waits.

“Danny,” Steve breathes, coming to a halt in front of him. He reaches automatically for Danny, who barely looks up to meet his eyes before he slumps forward, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that his partner will catch him.

And Steve does, arms encircling Danny's shoulders as he catches Danny in his arms and pulls him close. “What happened?” he demands, “Where are you hurt?”

It's like his body has decided to give up, Danny thinks blearily as he tucks his face into Steve's shoulder and focuses on breathing through the near-paralyzing pain. Because all his mind can think of is  _pain_ and  _tired_ and  _Steve_ and  _safe_ , in that order.

“My leg,” he manages to whisper just as said leg gives out from under him. He hears Steve grunt, working quickly to support the entirety of his weight before he can crash to the ground again, and then all he hears beyond the rushing in his ears is Steve’s slightly panicked voice crying out his name.

That's when everything fades away.

 

_“Hamstring has been badly pulled...the body repairs muscles during sleep...suffered a severe lack of sleep...muscle was continuously abused.. ”_

_“Bad case...he wasn't sleeping well…”_

_“He'll need plenty of rest...not using his leg…”_

Groaning quietly, Danny slowly blinks his eyes open. He thinks he recognizes his living room before his tired eyes force themselves closed again.

He keeps them closed for another minute, allowing his body to awaken fully, and then tries again. He's definitely in the living room, he realizes, more specifically, he's sprawled out on the sofa.

“Danny, you awake?”

Danny turns his head and blinks up sleepily at his partner, who is sitting on the coffee table looking down at him. “Steve?” he mumbles. “What happened?”

“You passed out,” Steve says shortly. “Doc says your lack of sleep prevented your hamstring from getting a chance to heal itself; all the exertion from the case only made it worse.”

“Why are we not in the hospital?” Danny frowns.

“Because she sent us home.”

“Oh.” Danny frowns as he remembers the case. “Did you get him?”

Steve nods. “I caught him when he was trying to blend in with a crowd a few blocks away.” He lets out a shaky sigh. “When I handcuffed him, he started bragging about how he managed to escape from an ‘injured cop.’”

Danny winces. “Sorry.”

“For worrying me or for being stupid?” Steve shakes his head. “What were you thinking, Danny, I asked you if you were up for the case or if you were okay... why didn't you just tell me the truth?”

Danny doesn't look at Steve as he shrugs, trying to sit up. “Sorry,” he says again.

Steve’s hands come to rest on his shoulders, easing him back gently. “I'm under strict doctor's orders to make sure you rest and get ‘at least ten hours of sleep tonight,’” he informs. “So, unless you have to use the bathroom, don't you dare try to move.”

Danny squints at him. “How long has it been since you found me?”

“Four hours. And no, that doesn't count as part of the ten because they sedated you in order to get the muscles in your leg to stop spasming,” Steve explains. “Now, move over.”

“Move over?”

“That's what I said.”

“Please don't make me watch one of your dumb survival SuperSeal documentaries,” Danny begs as he shifts his position, allowing Steve the space to sit down next to him.

“It would serve you right but I'm not that cruel. I thought we'd watch the old Mets and Yankees game you have saved on your DVR.”

Danny narrows his eyes. “That's oddly considerate of you.”

“You scared me,” Steve says quietly. “You collapsed in my arms, Danny, I thought you had been shot. So, if sitting here and watching baseball with you for the next ten hours is what it takes for you to get the sleep that you need, then so be it.”

Danny straightens his leg out carefully in front of him, barely containing a wince as he does so. Steve moves to allow him room for his legs and then sits down to Danny's left, throwing his arm on the back of the sofa around Danny's shoulders. Danny moves a tiny bit closer to his partner. “Is this where you say ‘I love you?’” he mumbles, already feeling like he could sleep for ten hours despite sleeping for the past four. “Or, do I say it?”

Steve shrugs. “I love you, buddy. You know that, I know that, I'm not ashamed to say it.”

Danny gives a slight smile as he closes his eyes and calms, his body relaxing into the warm presence of his partner sat beside him. Around his shoulders, he can feel Steve tighten his grip ever so slightly.

Yawning, he allows himself the luxury of resting against his partner as the familiar, soothing sounds of the baseball game filter into the background. At some unknown point later, his resolve fades and he finds himself slumping against Steve completely, his head coming to rest against Steve's shoulder.

“It's okay to sleep,” Steve whispers, his hand trailing down Danny's arm absently. “I'll protect you.”

Danny manages a small smile. “I know, Steve,” he murmurs.

For a brief moment, he thinks he feels the angel's touch of lips against his temple. In the next moment, he is fast asleep, safe in the protective, caring circle of his partner’s embrace.  

 

The End.


End file.
